Day by Day Collision
by Writer of Whispers
Summary: Fluffy one-shot collection based very loosely on the song "Razorblade" by Blue October. Stories take place after the events of the anime. Third chapter: Nice and Jacuzzi. Warning: contains references to adult themes and violence.
1. In that glowing

**Yes, yes, I know I should be updating the stories for my Soul Eater fans (or working on my novel, or studying for the exam next week), but I needed to get this out of my system. I recently fell in love with this anime, so I was mildly horrified at the lack of Baccano! fanfiction. If you haven't seen the anime, I'm not sure how you found this story, but go watch it! Firo needs more love! (So does Jacuzzi! And maybe Vino!)**

**Anyway... yes, this story occurs after the events in the anime. Also, I based all of the titles off the song "Razorblade" by Blue October, which fits the story so well that it gave me an onslaught of ideas for one-shots. I plan on writing at least two more chapters (Czes and Nice x Jacuzzi). If anyone needs more, show me some love. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Characters and ideas belong to Ryohgo Narita and all other respective owners/companies. The song "Razorblade" and its lyrics belong to Blue October and all other respective owners/companies. No copyright infringement intended and made purely for entertainment purposes. This disclaimer applies to all chapters of this fanfiction.**

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_ Yeah it is you that I remember in that glowing  
It is you that took my first away from me_

Ennis curled up in a ball at the corner of her bed, pressing her back into the wall and burying her face into the pillow clutched in her arms. The window, as yet lacking curtains or even blinds, creaked in protest as winds battered from outside. Thunder, so loud that Ennis felt the sound rushing through and around her, roared as the lightning flickered in and out of the room.

Ennis knew that she should not be able to feel emotion, but then, why was she so afraid…?

The door squealed as it was pushed open, and Ennis glanced up. Across the barren room, empty except for the bed, an empty desk, and a few cardboard boxes, Firo held up a beeswax candle jammed crookedly into a too-small candlestick holder. Even in his boxer shorts and oversized socks, Ennis still thought he looked… well, charming, in the way that only Firo could look. "Hey. You okay in here?"

Ennis nodded, but whatever resolve she had for keeping a strong face vanished at the next crackle of thunder. Whimpering, Ennis buried her face into the pillow again.

Firo chuckled as he walked over and, shifting a larger box closer to the bed, set the candle within reach. He sat beside her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. It's just a thunderstorm. They're not too uncommon around here."

Ennis shook her head, refusing to look at him. Ever since she had moved into this little apartment in downtown Manhattan one week ago, she had felt oddly dependent on Firo. He had paid for everything, from the front door (Firo exchanged the old cracked door with a freshly-painted green one) to the fire escape (where Ennis could sit and watch the setting sun shimmering on the black surface of the Hudson River). He even helped Czes, who shared the apartment with Ennis, unpack and settle into a new routine. He had offered to help Ennis unpack, too, but she would not let him, could not allow him to see how empty those boxes were.

"What's the matter?" he asked, setting his chin on her shoulder. Startled, Ennis drew her head back, and Firo took his chance to brush his lips against her cheek. She was so nonplussed that when the next thunder rattled her bones, she forgot to be afraid.

"You shouldn't do that," she muttered. She wanted to look away, but she had already looked at his face. Once her eyes met his—ever playful, but at this moment half-closed in concern—she found that she could not look away, as if it were a crime to miss this sight.

"Do what?" He brushed his fingers along the curve of her elbow, caressing the skin as he watched her face slowly redden. "Comfort the prettiest girl in New York? I think it's a great way to spend a Wednesday evening."

"I'm not…" Ennis struggled with the words. With his gaze focused on her, she found it difficult to speak at all. "I'm not human."

He chuckled. "You're as human as I am." He leaned back against the wall, keeping his arm wrapped snug around her shoulders, his thumb rubbing her shoulder. Ennis was suddenly aware that she was wearing only a sleeveless maroon nightshirt; the night was too warm and humid for anything more. She had not realized how much skin there was…

"You can't!" she suddenly said, bolting up but, catching her foot in the wrinkled sheets, clattering to the floor and banging her knee and the side of her head against the hardwood. Before she could right herself, Firo was there, pulling her onto his lap and scanning for injuries even as he untangled her foot from the bedsheet.

"What are you doing?" she asked, curious. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling his too-fast heartrate, and wondered why he looked so concerned. "You don't need to be worried. I'm immortal, remember?"

"Don't speak nonsense," he muttered tersely, lifting her with him as he stood up, setting gently back onto the bed. "You can still feel pain. I'm supposed to be worried."

Firo sat down facing her, and he wrapped one hand around hers. By now, Ennis had all but forgotten the thunder and lightning; she was too busy memorizing the effects of the wavering candlelight on his face. "Now tell me. What did you mean, 'I can't?' Can't what?"

Ennis slowly shook her head. "You know already, don't you?" She finally let her head drop to stare at their intertwined fingers, waiting for his to pull away. "What happened… during a storm like this."

Firo waited for more, obviously not piecing things together yet. She waited several minutes, listening to his shallow breathing and wallowing in her own shame.

Then, suddenly: "That bastard." Ennis squeaked in surprise as she was engulfed in two strong arms and yanked into his chest. Ennis did not move. She waited, uncertain, as Firo kissed her shoulder, then rested his chin against the back of her neck, so that she could not have pulled away had she wanted to.

"I won't hurt you like that, you know."

"I know."

"Then why are you afraid?"

Still frightened, Ennis pressed her forehead into the side of his neck so that she could feel the thrum of his pulse. "I might hurt you. I'm not…" Ennis wanted to say "clean," but then Firo interrupted in a ferocious voice:

"No, you're not. I don't know why you think you're some sort of unemotional husk of a person, when you're obviously one of the kindest, most generous people in the world! Certainly my world." He gripped her tighter. "Remember when we first met? You said you were sorry. You felt remorse for bumping into me. Remember?"

"Mhm—"

"And Isaac and Miria? When you saved them, it made you happy, didn't it? You even told them your name, when it could have waited. And me…" Firo paused. "When Szilard showed you that memory of me looking for you, so I could give you back your button. You smiled, just a little."

Ennis nodded slightly. She had forgotten that.

"You had emotions before you even met me," Firo said, and he sounded almost pleased with himself for having come up with such a good argument. "See? You're a good person…" He pulled away, holding each of her shoulders and waiting for her to meet his eyes. "A complete person."

Ennis felt weak in the jaws, as if speaking would send her body crumbling. She settled for staring at Firo, whose face had been caught somewhere between satisfaction and anxiety.

There was just one question hanging, suspended, in her mind. "And… you still want me?"

Firo actually laughed, shaking her a little. "Of course I do! What are you, daft?"

Ennis nodded, but she was smiling, revelling in the sudden calmness in her chest. Firo was still chuckling a little when she kissed him. She had just enough time to think that he tasted like bittersweet cocoa, and then she settled back onto the bed, waiting for his response.

He grinned. "Yahoo," he whispered, and then he winked.


	2. Razorblade cut me

**I'm not sure if this chapter came out the way I wanted.... By the way, I shortened Czeslaw's name to Czes, not that it should matter to anyone. Bonus points to those who guess the identity of the mystery thug. :)**

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_A brief bout with a razorblade cut me_

_I freaked out, thinking people didn't love me_

Czes liked the new apartment. He had set up camp in what was supposed to be the living room, shoving a bed and desk against the far wall and spending the majority of his time at the coffee table with Firo, playing dominoes and poker; curled on the couch between Isaac and Miria, listening to the radio or, more often, the duo's eccentric schemes; or sitting on the fire escape with Ennis, watching the sunset as his adopted big sister stroked his hair with her

left hand. To the traumatized boy, this was heaven.

For the first time in over two hundred years, Czes felt safe.

Despite his experience, Czes retained some of his childlike tendencies. He delighted in discovering new games with Firo, who often brought along some new toy—jacks, tops, a yo-yo—whenever he came to visit Ennis. Czes liked the fact that Ennis would cook big breakfasts for him in the morning, even though he knew how to cook as well as she did. Czes especially liked following his friend Rachel to the park, where she would jot notes while eavesdropping on passersby while Czes clambered on the monkey bars. That was one definite advantage to spending eternity in a child's body; no one thought twice about him playing on the jungle gym. It was enjoyable, especially now that he did not need to worry about another immortal devouring or torturing him.

Of course, old habits die hard, and Czes had a few close calls when his dormant traumas would suddenly threaten to overwhelm him. Once, while Ennis was cleaning in the other room, Czes had climbed onto the counter to grab a plate from the cupboard, fell backward, and cut himself on the shattering plate. The pain was not bad, but when Ennis ran so suddenly into the room, Czes had come close to attacking her. She had jumped out of the way when he punched her, and then waited as Czes regained his composure. Later that night, he had laid his head on her lap while watching the sunset, and she had told him that she would buy a stepladder in the morning.

Then there was the incident in the alleyway. Czes had recognized the man from a wanted poster, but he only placed the face with the name after the fact. "So, you're Firo Prochainezo's brat, huh?" the man slurred as he cornered the boy between a dumpster and a brick wall.

"Mister, I don't know what you're talking about," said Czes, liberally applying the trembling-before-the-specter act. Mentally, he was chastising himself for allowing himself to be trapped so easily. He might have been immortal, but against a full-grown man, he just did not have the strength to hold his own in a fight.

"Yeah, and that chick who made me immortal! I saw you hanging around them the other day down by the speakeasy. You their adopted spawn, kid?"

"Immortal?" Czes felt the heat drain from his face. He did not know an immortal that looked like this.

"I'm betting you are, too," said the man as he sneered, "but just because you're immortal doesn't mean you can't suffer! Take it from someone who knows!"

Later, Czes would find that irony amusing, but when the mystery man yanked a switchblade from his belt and casually flicked it at the boy, nicking his ear before catching in the mortar behind him, Czes felt nothing but unadulterated fear.

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"Czes! Czes, wake up! Please!"

Czes groaned as he regained consciousness. "Where… am I?" he asked groggily, squinting his eyes at the bright light. His limbs still ached from regenerating.

"You're home n-n-now," said a female voice by his ear, and then he recognized the familiar, loud blubbering of Miria and Isaac. "I'm so glad you're o-o-ok-okay!"

"Czes, what happened?" asked Firo as he leaned over the boy. Behind him, Czes saw Ennis and Maiza, both leaning against the wall with arms crossed tightly in front of their chests.

The boy paused, taking stock of the rest of the room. The light filtering through the window was pinkish with the rising sun. How had he lost consciousness for so long without his injuries healing? Then he noticed that his clothes were gone, his body covered with spare sheets from the linen closet.

"I don't know," he said honestly. The last thing he remembered was the thug from the night before—at least, he thought it was the night before—slicing through his throat. Czes gagged at the memory; he had not been in pain like that since meeting the Rail Tracer.

"We got a box this morning," Ennis said, her voice stilted with uncharacteristic hesitance. "It was a little box with… your pieces inside it. There wasn't room. You couldn't regenerate."

Czes's eyes widened. Fermet had never tried that.

"I need to know who did this," growled Firo, and Czes winced at the anger in Firo's voice. Angry people, in Czes's experience, could do horrible things.

"He knew you," Czes whispered, "but I don't know him." He looked at Maiza. "I was in a box? And couldn't heal?"

"But you did!" cried Isaac, patting Czes roughly on the shoulder.

"You did!" repeated Miria, patting him roughly on the stomach.

Maiza nodded slowly, looking toward the window. "Yes. Something to think about."

As he lay there, tuning out Isaac and Miria's stream of incoherent reassurances, Czes slowly remembered the hours of pain, being trapped in a dark place without knowing where he was, or who he was, or what anything was. Everything was agony. Pain, pain, pain—for a long time, that had been Czes's entire existence.

This place, this time—would it be any different?

Czes did not realize he was crying until someone was dabbing a tissue under his eyes. "There, there, you'll be okay," someone murmured, and looking up through his tears, Czes realized it was Rachel.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I should have walked you home. I thought…"

"That's it!" Firo announced, clenching his fists. "I'm getting you a gun, Czes. You need something to defend yourself."

"It doesn't matter. He was immortal, too."

This confused Firo enough to diffuse his anger. He turned to exchange glances with Ennis, who remarked, "That narrows the search a bit."

"We're all sorry, Czes. We won't let this happen again," Maiza promised. Czes nodded, still preoccupied with his thoughts. He had thought his pain was over now…

"We'll bring the perpetrator to justice!" Isaac announced, posing dramatically with one finger poised like an imaginary pistol. "You can trust us on that!"

"You can trust us on that!" echoed Miria.

Trust… Czes smiled. Yeah, he would trust them. He closed his eyes, letting the tears continue to flow as he listened to Rachel asking Firo about possible suspects and Maiza musing aloud about the Hudson River. Never before had anyone helped Czes like this, letting him play like a child within the loving embrace of a family. Now he was surrounded by people genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. For the moment, it was hard for him not to trust them.


	3. Children

_To be taken back to younger days_

Nice Holystone had children on her mind.

As she leaned against a tree and watched a group of seven-year-olds clambering over the park's jungle gym, she thought back on her own childhood, acting as the cool older sister to most of the people who currently constituted her and Jacuzzi's "gang" (despite their extensive criminal record, Nice still had a hard time thinking of them as anything but the dirty-knuckled kids they used to be). It had been tough filling that role. Jacuzzi had a certain charisma, and he could muster his courage when he needed it, but the gang depended on Nice being level-headed the other ninety-five percent of the time. She had given up half of her childhood to be the "boss" that everyone respected, leaned on; she would never regret it, but sometimes she just wanted to shed her stoic, strong façade and act like a little kid again: laugh, play (with something besides explosives, anyway), maybe even throw a tantrum…

Nice had closed her eyes, allowing the summer sun to soothe her restless thoughts, when she heard an uncertain, "Umm…"

Nice blinked. One of the seven-year-olds, a fair-haired girl wearing a frilly dress, stood a few feet in front of Nice, pointing to a striped ball that had rolled to the woman's feet. "Umm, can I… uh…"

The girl's cheeks turned pink, reminding the scarred bomb-maker of a younger Jacuzzi. Nice bent down and picked up the toy. She smiled reassuringly as she held it out to the girl. "Here you go."

The girl hesitated, looked up, and then whimpered in fright. "I—I'm sorry!" she yelled, and then she turned and ran away.

Nice frowned, brushing a hand against the scars on her arm. It surprised her that the girl's fright actually disturbed her. Nice had grown used to people's stares, but scaring a child was another matter entirely. For a moment, she allowed the pain wash over her. Would she ever be able to befriend a child, looking like she did?

That's when she heard the sniffling behind her.

"Jacuzzi?" Nice asked, turning to see tears streaming down her best friend's face. What had happened now?

"I—I think I frightened her, Nice!" he said, swallowing his sobs. "I'm not that scary, am I?"

Nice laughed. Jacuzzi's tears stopped as the boy stared at her, wondering what he had said. Nice shook her head as she continued to giggle. What was she worrying about? She had enough children to take care of! Wrapping one arm around Jacuzzi, she thought, _This one especially._

"What were you sneaking up on me for, anyway?" Nice asked, and Jacuzzi nodded as he dug in his pocket for a folded envelope.

"Ah, here it is. I, uh, wanted to—oh no!" Jacuzzi gasped as his shaking fingers dropped the paper onto the ground. Nice sighed as its corner absorbed the mud, turning the paper shoelace brown. Both delinquents dropped to their knees, grabbing for the paper, but Nice picked it up first, emptying the envelope into her palm.

"What… is this…?" Nice pinched the ring between her thumb and forefinger, examining the silver and slightly mucky ring. It was completely plain except for a thin sliver of inlaid turquoise. Glancing up from the tiny jewel, Nice almost laughed at Jacuzzi's horror-struck face.

"I—I—uh…" Nice bit back a laugh as Jacuzzi's face darkened to a crimson red.

"Where'd you find it?" Nice asked, placing the ring in Jacuzzi's palm.

"It's—it's for you," Jacuzzi mumbled, looking down. "Nick told me that girls l—l—like jewelry, so I figured… for your anniversary…"

"Anniversary? Of what?" Nice asked.

"Well, erm… I guess it's more mine than yours, but…" Jacuzzi scratched his left cheek with a finger, touching his tattoo, and Nice understood. This was the eleventh anniversary of the night when Nice opened her window and saw her eight-year-old best friend straddling her roof with a new, fearsome tattoo that did not match his personality at all. It had been the first time the pair had considered themselves a "couple."

"Nick put you up to this?"

"No!" Jacuzzi frantically waved his arms in front of him. "No, I thought of it! I mean, I asked him for advice about which gift. I was going to buy you copper wire…"

Nice smirked. "But Nick suggested a ring? Come on, Jacuzzi, you know he was messing with you, right?"

Jacuzzi's face froze in position for a moment as he considered the possibility. Nice made a mental note to punch Nick later. Sighing, she opened Jacuzzi's palm again and slipped her ring onto her right ring finger. "There."

Nice began to walk toward the street, and Jacuzzi trailed after her. "Uh, Nice, I think you put it on the wrong hand."

"No, I didn't. I need my left hand for another ring." Nice winked, and Jacuzzi froze up again. He had to jog to catch up with her a moment later.

"Wait! So you like it, right? You don't have to wear it. I can still take it back and buy you something else if you want."

"Why turquoise?"

"Well, turquoise is called the 'holy stone,' right? I mean, I don't think they make rings with bomb decorations on them…."

Nice burst out laughing. Jacuzzi knew her too well.


End file.
